


just need you here to hold me close

by xintong



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Lance (Voltron), Fluff and Smut, Klance Week 2018, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Top Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 20:30:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13748676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xintong/pseuds/xintong
Summary: That saying, how distance makes the heart grow fonder? Keith harbors that ache wherever he goes, the weight of it compounding beneath his ribs with each passing day, bruised between the bones.





	just need you here to hold me close

**Author's Note:**

> My top Keith bottom Lance ass was parched so I took advantage of klance week. The prompt for day 3 is blushing/hot, and I obviously went with... hot... lmao. 
> 
> Thank you to my dear friend Lin for reading this over for me and helping me edit. 
> 
> Title from 'Your Shirt' by Chelsea Cutler.

The barracks of the Blade of Marmora headquarters are a stark contrast to the quarters on the Castle of Lions.

Keith lies flat on his cot, staring blankly at the violet light piped along the edges of the ceiling above. He hasn’t bothered to strip out of his suit yet, only removing the armor plating around it, tired and numb from the scouting mission today at a Galran outpost. One hand pillows his head while the other twists his dagger in even circles, the motion as natural as reflex. He fixates on a shallow crack splitting the far wall, its shape almost liquid in the pitch, flowing in and out of focus.

Unlike the Castle, the architecture here makes no attempt to contrast the emptiness of the galaxies surrounding it, slipping into cold space like a second skin. Every room here is obscurely lit, forcing one’s eyes to adjust to the perpetual darkness. After months spent in such a place, Keith’s vision has managed to recalibrate, though he rarely relies on his sense of sight anymore.

 _Months._ Keith flips the blade one last time before catching the hilt, sinking his arm to his chest. It’s been nearly five months since he left again; five months since he last stepped foot in the Castle, last reported back to his team in person. It feels like more, with how much he misses them.

Shiro’s comforting guidance. Coran’s offbeat stories and Allura’s gentle acceptance. Hunk and Pidge’s jokes, their easy friendship, the strange yet reassuring way they ramble together about science.

Lance.

There’s no point in denying that Keith misses him most of all. Lance gave him the support and comfort he needed during his brief stint in leadership; a bright, constant presence that both humbled him and encouraged him. Before he knew it, their rivalry had morphed into a partnership of mutual respect and protectiveness, one that burned easily into affection. As the months went by, they only grew closer — until they were more than teammates, more than friends.

That saying, how distance makes the heart grow fonder? Keith harbors that ache wherever he goes, the weight of it compounding beneath his ribs with each passing day, bruised between the bones.

They video call as often as they can, which is to say rarely if ever at all, save for the usual reconnaissance report with Kolivan. Whenever those occur, Keith always struggles to remain objective. His eyes inevitably search for Lance, finding the Blue Paladin already looking right at him, smile soft and expression bared open.

Keith presses his fist to his sternum, as if he could physically stamp out the ache. Missing Lance is merely an extension of him now, though the feeling flares whenever he has a moment to think too long. _I should call him soon._ They could talk, just the two of them alone. Keith would ask Lance about his day, listen to him fondly as he details his adventures with Red, the new aliens he’s met, watch the way his hands windmill through the air and the indents across his cheeks like cat whiskers.

“Access granted.”

Keith jolts up when the door to his room suddenly unlocks, dagger at the ready as a stranger slinks smoothly in. A heavy cloak wraps their frame, shrouding their features. Keith has them pushed up against the door in an instant, knife at their jugular and arms bracketing their shoulders.

The intruder merely relaxes into his grip, warm, familiar voice slipping out as the hood falls back from his head, revealing a face Keith would recognize anywhere, even in death.

"Is it wrong that I think it’s kinda hot how you almost decapitated me?" 

Keith immediately lowers the knife from Lance’s throat, shock and astonishment coursing through him in equal measure. “Lance, wha—”

“Must have missed you too much,” Lance hums thoughtfully, sliding a finger down Keith’s open mouth to drag it shut. His blue eyes gleam like stars. “Ssshh, I came to visit you. Unofficially, of course.”

“How?” Keith manages, dumbly. Lance brushes past him and tosses his cloak onto the floor, plopping onto Keith’s bed with a sigh. He stretches languidly, making a displeased sound at the stiffness of the mattress, shirt riding up on his stomach. Keith’s eyes are helplessly drawn to the skin there; helplessly drawn to all of Lance, real and solid and breathtaking so close for the first time.

“Pidge helped me hack the security system and I sneaked in. It was all very Mission Impossible minus the killer soundtrack.” Lance sits back up and reaches his arms out, waving his hands emphatically. Keith steps forward, cradling the back of Lance’s head as Lance hugs him close, nosing his abdomen happily. “Man, that would’ve been cool. Should’ve asked Pidge to install like, a micro Walkman in my ear.”

His voice vibrates pleasantly through the fabric of Keith’s suit, causing Keith’s fingers to gently twist into his hair, dragging against his scalp. Warmth effervesces low in his stomach, dispelling any lingering surprise and replacing it with fondness and contentment. He gently tilts Lance’s jaw so that he can look at those eyes he missed so much. “What did you have to bribe Pidge with to get them to help you?”

Lance scoots back onto the bed and Keith follows, sitting at the head against the wall. Lance kneels in front of him between his parted thighs, their hands linking together as if neither of them could bare the thought of not touching at every given moment. “They get all my dessert goo for the next two weeks.” The pout on Lance’s mouth has Keith reaching up to pull at it, thumb caressing his lower lip. Lance makes a move to bite the pad, tugging a smirk from Keith. “It tastes like butter pecan ice cream, Keith! Hunk and Kaltenecker are miracle workers. How am I gonna live without it?”  

 _How am I going to live without you now that you’re here, back in my life?_ “Wow, you gave up dessert for me, Lance. I must be really special, huh?” Keith teases. Lance flushes vividly at that, and Keith wishes the lighting in the room wasn’t so dim so that he could fully appreciate its brightness.

“Hey now, don’t get a big head. I’m only here cause I’m worried about your trigger-happy ass and not cause I’m like, in love with you and missing you terribly or anything.”

Lance turns his face petulantly to the side, refusing to meet Keith’s eye. Keith feels like all the breath’s been knocked out of him, the words dizzying as they sink in, overwhelming. He reaches out with his hand again to cup Lance’s face, stroking his cheek lightly with his thumb.

Words are failing him, a taut, iron weight in his throat that’s damming his voice. So instead, he leans in, coaxing Lance’s lips gently apart to kiss him slow and deep.

Lance tastes sweet, like remnants of butter pecan. Keith smiles into the kiss as he imagines Lance hurriedly shoveling dessert goo into his mouth before agreeing to Pidge’s terms. His arm is given a curious squeeze as laughter bubbles out of him at the image, but he merely shakes his head slightly, lips never leaving Lance’s own smile, tongues meeting hot and languid. The kiss deepens, a current of electricity running between them as the mood shifts.

On any other day, Keith would be content to kiss Lance for hours on end — hands roaming soft skin, breathing in his honeyed scent. Today though, after five months without Lance’s warmth beside him, Keith craves him desperately. Lance must feel the same, open-mouthed kisses dissolving into something frantic. Keith winds his free arm around Lance’s neck, tugging him close as their fingers tangle tightly together against the sheets, heat building in the narrow space between them.

Abruptly, Lance slips their fingers apart, the heel of his hand dragging sharply over Keith’s hardening cock. Keith has to pull away, burying his face into Lance’s shoulder as he pants brokenly, groan drawn thick from the back of his throat.  

Lance laughs breathily, fingers shaping the outline of him through the fabric, rubbing slow and hard. His voice is just as gutted when he says, “you missed me, didn’t you?”

Keith can only nod an answer, other hand twisted into the sheets, whole body shaking. _Of course I did._

It’s hot. It’s so hot. Heat and friction pulse through him in waves, snagged by the press of Lance’s warm, rough palm. When Lance glides his hand underneath the slit of his suit, his breath seizes like punch to the stomach, hot and cold melding deliciously as Lance gently pulls him out.  

He’s already slick, pre-come beaded at the head, gliding down the length of him. Lance grips him tightly, pressing wet, hot kisses along the curve of his jaw as Keith tries to even out his breathing. It’s a pointless attempt to try to ground himself, though, when the pleasure throbs so deeply, unraveling him at his core.

“I forgot how big you are,” Lance murmurs, warm against Keith’s ear. He pumps Keith almost contemplatively, as if to re-memorize his shape. “Gotta fix that.”  

With only that as a warning, Lance ducks away from Keith’s hold, sliding down the length of the bed. He drops a teasing kiss onto the tip of Keith’s cock, grin wide and cheeky when Keith’s thighs jump in response.  

“Lance—” Keith starts, throat tight, just like his body. He watches as Lance’s long lashes fan over the sharp cut of his cheekbones, watches how Lance’s lips stretch obscenely red around the thick of his cock, watches as Lance’s hand works what his mouth can’t. His mouth is soft and wet and his tongue is skilled. _He looks so good_ , cheeks hollowed out with a warm, ruddy blush.

Keith can hardly breathe, lungs fighting to intake air as his fingers curl into Lance’s silky hair. His hips jolts when his cock hits the back of Lance’s throat, fluttering wildly around him. He tries to steady himself so as to not hurt Lance, but Lance simply moans, sending vibrations throughout his cock that wreck his entire body. Keith’s vision nearly whites out at the sight of him with his eyes slipping close, drool pooling down the side of his chin, face blissed out like there’s nothing better in the world than having Keith in his mouth.  

Keith tugs him away before he comes right on the spot, pulling Lance up for a bruising kiss. Lance laughs lightly into it, clearly pleased with himself, and breaks the kiss to drag his shirt off, shimmy out of his pants. Keith can’t stop touching him the whole time, gloved hands smoothing over the crest of Lance’s hips and the bump of his ribs, soft and reverent. He’s still fully dressed himself but Lance doesn’t seem to mind, eager to be back in Keith’s warmth, thighs straddling him as he lines himself up.

Keith makes a noise of protest, knowing there’s a bottle of half-used oil beneath the bed. Lance hushes him with a kiss.

“Don’t worry, I already opened myself up for you,” he whispers, smile pressed between their lips. “I’ll let you watch next time.”

The promise pierces Keith all the way through with a hot stab of tenderness, thinking about Lance spreading himself with his fingers before he came, imagining they were Keith’s instead. One arm reaches around to brace the small of his back, other hand cradling his jaw as Keith licks into his mouth, hungry and yearning. Lance mewls against the kiss as he lowers himself, high sounds muffled with every inch he takes in. When he finally bottoms out, his moans fall brokenly in the space between them, nails digging crescent-moons on Keith’s shoulders.  

They stay like that for a moment, both catching their breaths. Keith wills himself to remain still as Lance trembles around him, no longer accustomed to his size. He drops soothing kisses against his cheeks and eyelids, thumb rubbing circles into the dimples of his back, letting him know it’s okay to take it slow. After a while, Lance rolls his hips, a small jerk that has stars blooming behind Keith’s eyes, shut tight as he groans. Lance starts building a rhythm, undulating to the tip and down again, always tightening at the bottom, milking Keith fully.

His hands are broad against Lance’s trim waist, the black fabric melting into smooth, dark skin. He holds firm as he leans back against the wall and takes all of Lance in — the crease of his brows, the flush of his chest. Sweat beading the warm collar of his throat in the low light of the room, glistening faintly. He’s gorgeous. Perfect.

Lance keens at the deliberate scrape of Keith’s glove across his nipple, the sudden bite and suck of Keith’s mouth on the other. His hips stutter in their rhythm, hole clenching hot and pulsing around Keith’s cock. A full-body shudder runs through him as Keith takes the moment to thrust up, nailing his prostate, tongue soothing the bruises he left on his skin.  

Lance goes pliant in his arms, hips canting to meet Keith’s every push. When they’re not kissing, Lance is honest and shameless in his noises, begging Keith to fuck him harder, faster. Every sound that falls from his lips is sweet and flooded with need, and Keith is helpless to fulfill him.

“Keith, Keith please, pleaseplease _please_ — _ungh_ —” Lance gasps, arms falling back to brace himself as Keith gently shifts them forward, cock slipping impossibly deeper into Lance. Lance releases a shuddering sob as Keith slams into him from the new angle, his shoulders against the bed and back arched in the air, ass rubbing over the coarse fabric of Keith’s thighs. His hole clenches with every thrust, cock leaking pearls of white, fingers fisted into the sheets. He looks as beautiful as he is wrecked, bright tears clinging to his lashes and spit coating his parted lips.

Keith’s hands brand patterns onto his hips, chest rumbling at the sight he makes bouncing on his cock. The pleasure is near painful as Lance sucks him in, the wet sound of their lovemaking filthy and loud.

“Lance, look at me,” he manages, bending down to frame Lance’s head with his arms. He presses a begging kiss to Lance’s lips, and Lance’s hands loosen around the rumpled sheets to cup his jaw, stroking him gently. When he opens his eyes, his pupils are so wide they devour the blue. Keith loses himself in the drowning darkness. “I’m close.”

“Come inside,” Lance says, ankles linking at the base of his spine, keeping him buried. They hold each other’s gazes until Keith’s vision whites over, groan punching deep and muscles tensing violently. He feels the familiar heat erupt in spasms, pleasure staggering from the crest of his head to the soles of his feet as he comes and comes. Dimly, he feels Lance’s release, too, hole pulsing around him and warm wetness coating their stomachs.

Keith shifts to the side before he collapses on Lance, pulling him to his chest as his cock softens inside him. He drops a lingering kiss to Lance’s sweat-slick forehead, slipping out carefully, eyes flicking down to see his come painting the insides of Lance’s thighs. He can’t help the thrum of satisfaction that runs through him, blinding him to the mess on his suit that will no doubt be a trial to wash in the common laundry room later. Maybe he could sneak out early morning to rinse it off in the bathroom sink.

Lance seems to read his mind, kissing the hollow of his throat. “Sorry about your suit.”

“It’s okay, I have a spare.” He ducks down to kiss Lance properly, a chaste brush of lips that no less tingles through his spine. He pulls away to grab the towel hanging at the foot of his bed, gently cleaning Lance off before peeling out of his suit, damp with sweat and the scent of sex. Maybe he should just toss the whole thing out in the garbage disposal. No one would notice.

He slides under the thin sheets with Lance, sighing contently as their legs tangle together. It’s been too long since they’ve held each other like this: Lance’s head pillowed against his bicep, hand warm over his heart.

“I can’t stay for long,” Lance murmurs, index finger tracing patterns beneath Keith’s clavicle. Keith’s arms tighten instinctively around him, the dread of their separation muted only by his exhaustion. “Come back home with me.”

The pleading in his voice nearly breaks Keith’s heart, causing the ache inside his ribs to return full force, welling against his throat. “You know I can’t. Not yet.” He prays Lance will understand. That he’s not staying away because he wants to. That he’d go home in less than a heartbeat if he could.

He feels Lance nod, voice soft and resigned, but… full of love and tenderness, too.

“I’ll wait for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Batman may have forgiven me for my sins but I'm running off to Siberia from shame regardless lmao. Find me on twitter @ephemelody or writing tumblr @yuemji if you'd like. Hasta a later!


End file.
